


The mask of his dreams

by UchihaCrow



Category: Naruto
Genre: Cute Sakumo, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Little Kakashi, The reason why Kakashi wears a mask, Written because I realized I only wrote angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28561974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UchihaCrow/pseuds/UchihaCrow
Summary: A reason for how Kakashi came to wear a mask
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Hatake Sakumo
Kudos: 10





	The mask of his dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Just a short one-shot that kind of came to me in a very weird dream, so I hope you like it... I think little Kakashi is the cutest character ever to write!

In a narrow back alley, just a tiny bit west of the Konoha Library, there is a small shop that has the doubtful honour of being the tiniest, most eccentric shop in the village. There were rumours that you could buy most anything that wasn’t illegal (and some things that were) in this shop, or at least that is what it advertised in the faded white sign that hung crookedly from a rusty nail at the front door. This shop had no name, the owner had never bothered to give it one, though her son constantly attempted to baptize it to no avail. (In her defence the name “Ninja Dollar Store” wasn’t very flattering… Or accurate, considering the price of the merchandise, and she lacked the creativity and inclination to think of a better one.)

It simply existed, tucked away into a little nook like a small ugly wart on a prim lady’s fingers. The dingy window displayed the shops very best items; Kunai’s only slightly rusted, shiny shurikens with twisted edges from being thrown by careless novices, and a very large and dented Katana with a small sticker attached screaming: “ _THIS SWORD WAS OWNED BY THE FAMOUS LORD HASHARAMA! BUY AND FEEL HIS BRAVERY AND COURAGE INSPIRE YOU!”_ ( Hasharama was the son of the owner of this shop’s second cousin, though he was neither brave nor courageous. The owner hoped that people would confuse the name with a much more famous one. Business was slow…)

There was also a collection of mismatched items strewn almost carelessly on the red cloth that covered the dusty window sill. A small rubber ball, two chipped mugs, a musty book and a neatly folded black mask.

Staring down at this bizarre assortment of objects, face almost touching the glass, was a small boy accompanied by his father. This child couldn’t be more than three years old, however, his hair which somehow stood straight up in spikes, (this feat seemed impossible without gel, but the boy’s locks were as downy and soft as a newborn chick’s feathers) was a startling shade of greyish-white. His cheeks were plump and cherubic, and although a small scowl of annoyance graced his face, everything about him seemed to scream _Cute!!!_

His father, who was a tall man with similar hair, conversed with a man in a standard green vest, debating the potential viability of the chunin’s new earth-based jutsu. Which was how the boy found himself waiting impatiently, scanning the shop’s window with dark inquisitive eyes. His gaze eagerly fell on the shuriken before moving on, noting the dents and blunt edges. When he reached the Katana, the boy scoffed, muttering “Hasharama” under his breath. “The Tale Of The Gutsy Shinobi” didn’t sound very interesting to him, and he was about to turn around to observe his father when he saw _it_. A small piece of jet-black cloth, expertly sewn into a mask that completely covered your face all the way up to the nose.

It was love at first sight.

The three-year-old didn’t take his eyes off the mask. It seemed almost to magnetically attract his gaze. It was so _cool._ So mysterious. Like a real ninja, like something his father would wear. The boy knew deep inside that he would stop at nothing to obtain it, no matter the cost. He wanted this thing more than anything else that he had ever seen in his life, even more than he wanted to join the academy.

Turning to his parent, the little boy mentally searched for a convincing argument that would hopefully sway his father easily… It shouldn’t be too hard since Sakumo usually bought whatever he asked for as long he gave a practical reason.

“Father…?” He tugged on the man’s red and white sleeve. “What is it Kakashi…?” The chunin had excused himself and left just a few seconds ago. “Could you please buy that for me?” The boy pointed to the most beautiful item of clothing ever. Sakumo squinted at the dusty display. “What, the book?” The Tale Of The Gutsy Shinobi… Hadn’t Sakumo seen the author's name in a… very questionable adult book before? “I don’t think that’s exactly age-appropriate for you…” Kakashi shook his head empathetically. Though his curiosity piqued and he silently resolved to read that novel as soon as possible…

“No, not the book, I would like the mask.” Sakumo glanced at the small scrap of fabric. It seemed quite pathetic, to be honest. It could hardly be called a mask… “Why do you want a mask…?” he asked curiously. Kakashi had no reason that he knew of to wear one. “So fat old ladies stop pinching my cheeks.” Kakashi crossed his arms. “It hurts, and is humiliating… I’m not a _baby_.” Sakumo struggled to keep a straight face at the motive of the boy’s annoyance. Nevertheless, he hastily admonished him. “Don’t speak about Mrs. Kohaku in that way, Kakashi. It’s rude.” “I don’t think it’s very polite to hurt people’s faces with your big, meaty fingers.” Kakashi placed a hand on his slightly scarlet cheek. “She even left a mark…” Sakumo chuckled, ruffling the boy’s spiky hair. “Don’t worry. I’ll buy you the mask.” The child’s eyes lit up, and he almost skipped to the shop entrance.

“Thanks!” Kakashi called out, twisting his head to face his father. Sakumo entered the store behind him, ruefully checking his wallet. “Do you even know how much it costs?” he asked. “I’ve heard that this place is quite expensive…” “There’s no price tag,” Kakashi answered cheerfully, looking around for someone to help them. “You want the mask, little boy?” This voice belonged to a wizened-looking, frail old lady. She shakily got up from her wooden rocking chair. “ _My_ boy will help you…” The ancient woman laughed wheezingly, showing a gap-toothed smile. “Though he isn’t very little... KOSUKE!! COME OUT, YOU DECREPIT OLD BASTARD!” Both father and son stared at her. How did she even know that they wanted the mask? ‘She must have ninja-level hearing skills,’ Sakumo thought in astonishment. ‘Either that or she could lipread.’ He never would have guessed…

“Wow,” the three-year-old said quietly. Sakumo knelt in front of him. “And that Kakashi, is exactly why you should never insult old ladies… You never know when they might be listening to you,” he said solemnly. The boy slowly nodded his head, eyes as big as saucers.

“What, you old hag?” Kosuke was a small balding man, wearing faded overalls. “The boy wants the mask.” She gestured at Kakashi with one spindly finger. “Go fetch it for him.” Grumbling under his breath, Kosuke reached into the window and withdrew the object in question. He tossed it to the child, who caught it with both hands. “Umm, do you think it will fit him…?” Sakumo asked timidly. Kosuke glared at him. The man’s eyes were small and beady. “I dunno,” he said after much deliberation. “It will cost you 400 Ryo (50 dollars).” The man known as the White fang almost groaned. He risked a glance at his son. The boy’s eyes were pleading in a way that only the smallest of children can pull off. Sakumo sighed in defeat. “Fine.” He handed over the money to Kosuke.

Kakashi grinned, clasping the mask. He felt almost giddy with excitement. It was beautiful. He reverently touched the jet-black fabric. It was as smooth as silk, though more robust. Operation: Get Father To Buy The Mask had gone as perfectly as planned. 

Sakumo noticed the light bounce in his son’s feet as they exited into the bright sunlight. The boy’s radiant smile seemed to illuminate the path in front of him. The grey-haired man watched him fondly. Sakumo sometimes worried about Kakashi, he was too serious, too quiet at times. He thought it might be because his mother had died when he was born, she used to smile and laugh much more often than he did. If she had been here… Kakashi seemed too eager to grow up. It was nice to see him this happy, like a child his age should be.

“Aren’t you going to try it on now, since you like it so much?” he asked teasingly. Kakashi stared at him. “Of course not. That would be very childish.” 


End file.
